


Quick Cut

by agirlcalledbob



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: First Meeting, M/M, Modern Setting, Nervous Steve, Not Canon Compliant, explicit - Freeform, sensitive billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlcalledbob/pseuds/agirlcalledbob
Summary: A modern au for Steve and Billy
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	Quick Cut

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love sweet Billy and needy Steve, and normally we have to get there slowly, but, eh, jumping straight in here because I only wanted a short story.  
> To clarify - it's an au, so no supernatural kerfuffle, and they meet for the first time now, so Steve's had some high school angst but none of it was related to Billy, and it's modern because I'm not cool with homophobia and the 80s were too rife with it - I want the boys to be able to be as free as anyone can be these days (I know it's still not perfect, but we take what we can get for now)

Steve loves his condo. _Loved_ his condo. 

The main reason was the privacy. A gate prevents anyone getting on site who hasn’t been pre-approved. Not that there’s anyone specific Steve’s worried about, not anymore. Sure he lost his status as King many years ago, when he came out as bi, stupidly thinking his popularity would provide a buffer. As if. And when that was gone, he got pretty used to getting beaten by guys who thought if was fun to pound on someone who couldn’t, and wouldn’t, fight back. And that might have broken something inside him, so when he made it to college, thanks to his father’s dime and desperation (it sure wasn’t his grades that got him there), he mainly kept his head down, only occasionally running up against the kind of people who saw his weakness and dived on it.

He knows he’s weak; been reminded of it constantly. He only has a job now because his father insists he has to uphold the family name, even if the thought of working for someone who hates the sight of him makes him sick.

The condo is one good thing that came out of it, though. His father not wanting any knowledge of his ‘depraved ways’, so buying him this place, even letting him choose it, so he could pick somewhere close to work but a long way from his parents’. Somewhere secure. 

It’s made him anti-social though, he’ll concede it. He had a couple of friends before college, people who’d stuck by him. But they have their own lives to live, especially now. Already heading into marriage and kids, neither of which Steve wants anything to do with. Not if it means having to let someone in. Here, the neighbors keep to themselves. _Kept_ to themselves.

So why he has a little card in his hand to announce that a package has been left with his neighbor, instead of at the front gate, is a fucking mystery. He questioned the guard, but the man got defensive, which made Steve nervous, so he dropped that train fast.

Anything else, and he’d leave it. Give it up as a bad job. But he needs that parcel, dammit.

He doesn’t even know this neighbor by sight. The elderly woman who lives next door mentioned a handsome young man who goes running early each morning had recently moved in, but, frankly, that’s even more reason to not knock. If it’s a man, and young, and fit. That can only end badly for Steve. That’s exactly the kind of person he tries to avoid. 

He leaves it for three more days. But he _needs_ it. Fuck. 

Finally, he bites the bullet. Comes home early on Friday and stands in front of number 47. He takes a deep breath and knocks. There’s no answer. Thank God.

“You must be Steve?”  
He almost leaps into the air at the rough voice from behind him, and he yelps as he spins to face the voice. He almost yelps again when he sees what it’s coming from. Fuck. Just…fuck.  
“Yes?”

“Yes?” And now that deep voice is mocking, and the man it’s attached to leans casually against a lamppost, arms crossed over a broad – fuck – chest. He’s…he’s gorgeous. Steve can see his blue eyes from here. Eyes that are clearly laughing at Steve’s stupid scrawny – obvious – behavior. And this is what gets him into trouble. He doesn’t cower, even if he wants to. There are still people around. He’s safe. Probably.  
“Yes. You have my package. Uh, I think- do you?”  
“I do. The delivery guy brought one for me too, so I said I’d take yours. I tried to bring it over a few times, but you weren’t in. You work a lot?”  
“Yeah, I guess. Uh, can I have it?” Way to go, Steve. Asking permission to receive his own parcel. Good stuff. 

The man comes closer, and Steve _does_ cower as he passes close, suddenly realizing how tall, and broad, he is.  
“Hey, easy dude. Just going inside, gotta get your package.”  
Steve straightens, feeling like an idiot, of course. 

The man unlocks his door and stands, looking expectantly at Steve.  
“You coming?”  
What can he do? He has to, otherwise he’ll just look even weirder.

He enters the condo behind the man, twisting his fingers. Just gotta get the delivery and leave. It’s all good. It’s nice inside, nicer than his, even if they’re all the exact same design. But even if the guy’s only been in for a short time, he’s bothered to make it his, unlike Steve. There’s pictures on all the walls of the open living space, and the previous owner must have put a better kitchen in, because this guy hasn’t had time, but it’s shiny and white, with a wooden butcher’s-block countertop. The couch is huge and pale green and comfortable looking, and there are several area rugs over the hard wood floor. 

“I’m Billy, by the way.”  
“Uh, yeah, I’m Steve.”  
“I know,” Billy flashes a very white smile even as Steve flushes, mortified. “Do you want a beer?” Billy has already opened the fridge and has twisted the cap off a bottle, holding it out to Steve. He takes it, for wont of anything better to do, even if he’s pretty much given up coming across as normal at this point.

Billy leans against the kitchen counter, sipping his own beer, examining Steve.  
“What?”  
“You always this nervy? Or is it me?”

It’s unreasonable, the tears Steve feels brewing. He’s just so unused to any kind of conversation now, especially from someone who’s actually asking about how he’s feeling, in a roundabout way.  
“Always.”  
“Why?”  
The strange thing is, Billy seems genuinely interested. His face has lost the mocking look, and he’s leaning forward a little, even though Steve is standing well back, as if he wants to soothe him. But it’s too much.  
“Do you have my parcel?”  
“Sure thing, Princess.” Billy reaches to take it out of a high cupboard as Steve splutters on his beer.  
“What?”  
“Well, you’re buying hair care from here, you obviously value your looks.”  
“I’m not a princess.”  
“Sure thing, Pretty Boy.” Billy’s smirking again as he holds the parcel out. “Can I see what you bought?”

It should be easy to say no. Why would he open his delivery so this total stranger can examine and judge what he’s bought? But, instead, he nods, and Billy slices the parcel open, pulling the bottles free and placing them on the counter.  
“This one’s no good, you’re wasting your money there. This one’s okay. You have a sensitive scalp?” Steve nods, dumbly. “You’d be better off with something natural. I have a great oatmeal and chamomile masque you should use.”  
“You do?”  
“Yeah. I’m a hairdresser.”  
Of course he is. He has great hair.  
“I could give you a jar?” Billy actually seems nervous saying that. Nothing like Steve, of course, but like he wants to help. Steve preferred when he was cocky, so he nods.  
“Sure, that sounds great.”  
Billy smiles wide, and Steve gasps. He’s so _beautiful_. He was hot a moment ago, but now, when he seems genuinely happy, he’s just stunning. 

“Sit down, I’ll get it.”  
Billy runs upstairs, and Steve sits on the couch, which is just as comfortable as it looks, sipping his beer slowly. He isn’t much of a drinker these days, hasn’t been since he was a teenager, and he’s tired, so he zones out, staring out of the tall window, onto the carefully manicured lawns out the front of the townhouses, and he wonders how a hairdresser can afford to live here. 

He jumps when Billy places a mason jar on the coffee table and sinks onto the couch next to him.  
“Jeez, you’re jumpy.”  
“Sorry. I should go. Thanks for taking my parcel and the- and the hair stuff.”  
“You in a rush? I was going to order pizza. Stay and help me eat it?”  
“Uh…”  
“You don’t have to. But I don’t know any of the neighbors yet. I should get to know people.”

It’s a valid argument, even if Steve hasn’t bothered beyond his direct neighbors in the last two years. Agreeing is easier than standing up for himself, so he nods.

They eat pizza, partly in silence, though Steve allows himself to relax some, and they chat inconsequentially at times; and somehow Steve finds himself agreeing to watch a movie, and drink another beer.

* * * * * 

He wakes up more peacefully than he has for a long time, feeling fingers carefully stroking through his hair. He opens his eyes in a flash, realizing with mortification that his head is resting on Billy’s thigh, and it’s Billy’s fingers on his head. He flinches, waiting for retribution.  
“Hey, shush, it’s okay. You just faded out on me, and you seemed so peaceful. I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”  
“I’m- I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay. I like it. You’re really pretty, you know that?”

Steve’s face goes red, but he doesn’t move, even if his whole body is tense.  
“This is going to sound weird. And you can tell me to stay out of your business. But, who hurt you?”  
“What makes you think-?”  
“Princess, no one as pretty as you flinches this much if they haven’t been hurt.”

Steve sits up, and Billy sighs but waits.  
“I’m just not great with people. It’s- no one’s hurt me for a long time. I just don’t speak to people much.”  
“Well, thank you for speaking with me, then. Hey, why don’t I help you out? I can put the masque on your hair.”  
“I don’t know-,”  
“I know what I’m doing, promise.”  
“I’m sure you do, I just-,” how does he explain it would mean going upstairs, to the bathroom? It would mean being even more alone with a gorgeous man, which is too dangerous. How can he even say that without giving himself away (even if he’s getting the feeling Billy won’t mind about that side of him)?  
“Let me?” Billy’s looking so kindly at him he doesn’t feel as though he can say no, which he knows is the dumbest thing. And maybe he doesn’t _want_ to say no. It’s been so long, and he can tell where this is going, but just maybe, he’ll let himself say yes, to just about anything Billy asks of him.

* * * * * 

Billy can barely believe he’s managed to convince this perfect angel into his house, never mind that he relaxed enough to fall asleep on him.

He couldn’t believe his luck when the delivery guy came and he saw the other package in his hand.  
“Steve Harrington? He’s my neighbor, I’ll sign for that.”  
“I’m not meant to-,”  
Billy threw his best charming grin at the man. “It’s not a problem, you won’t find him in, he’s at work.”  
The man was convinced enough to let Billy sign and Billy waited, increasingly impatient, for days, for Steve to ask for his parcel.

It hadn’t come out of nowhere. Billy had seen Steve the day he moved in, walking from the parking lot with his head down. Even then, Billy had been struck with how pretty the boy was. And, sure, right then, all he had been thinking was how he looked so finely boned and delicate and how he’d be perfect to pin down on Billy’s new, massive bed and take to pieces. 

But Billy kept seeing him, and couldn’t help but notice that he was quiet and shy, and Billy went from wanting to fuck him through the floor to wanting to hold him until he stopped shaking. He saw how Steve helped the old lady who lived next door to him – bringing groceries around, and using secateurs on the leafy plants by her front path. He made sure to introduce himself to Mrs Willows, a widow, and discovered that Steve also helped her by carrying anything heavy, and doing her paperwork for her, now her eyes weren’t so good. 

Mrs Willows hadn’t been much help to Billy in trying to discover _why_ Steve is so reluctant to engage with people.  
“He’s a good boy, Billy. He deserves someone to look after him,” is all she’d said.  
“He doesn’t have anyone?” Billy had been surprised. There’s no way he’s the only person to notice how sweet, and how pretty, Steve is.  
“He had someone when he first moved in. Two years ago. No one since then, and that boy didn’t deserve Steve. He left one day, ranting mean things, and Steve has never brought anyone home since. He wasn’t right for Steve, anyway. A demanding Nancy boy.”  
Billy ignored Mrs Willows’ casual judgment, mainly because he didn’t think she meant it the way it sounded. Besides, Billy hasn’t always been good at thinking of other people. No one’s ever going to call him something like that, not now his father is dead, finally.

Something changed in Billy when that happened. He’d been so angry when he was younger, when he was trapped with his father. When he was getting beaten regularly; for not showing enough respect – the right kind of respect – the boundaries of which changed too fast for him to ever keep up. He’d been eighteen before he realized two things: it was never about respect, but always about the fact that his father enjoyed instilling fear and feeding off it, and that he didn’t have to be there for it anymore. 

He’d carried the pain, though, for years after escaping. Feeling guilt, when he’d worked out he’d been doing just what his father had done – making people feel fear because he could – feeling shame, and vowing to never be that way again. It wasn’t until his father died from cirrhosis that the weight he’d been carrying lifted. The safety that, no matter what, he was never going to get dragged back to that level. And then he’d discovered he was the beneficiary of a life insurance policy that had been set up decades before, enabling him to move out of his cramped shared apartment to this idyllic community. He hasn’t had time to think about what an about-turn his life has taken, because the moment he saw Steve he could think of nothing more than him.

“You need to take your shirt off,” he instructs, watching as Steve unbuttons the slim fit button-down without saying a word, revealing smooth, pale skin and dusky pink nipples. Billy passes Steve a towel to wrap around his shoulders and the boy takes it gratefully, clutching it closed at his throat. Billy wants to remove it immediately, to dirty up that perfect flesh, to make goosebumps stand and make Steve shiver out of something other than nerves.

“Kneel,” he tells Steve as he perches on the edge of the tub, and he manages not to bite his fist at the smooth fold Steve does, dropping to his knees and looking up at Billy, his huge dark eyes swimming in trepidation. Billy makes soothing noises as he applies the creamy concoction, until it coats his hair, making him look sleek and much younger, his eyes closed, long dark lashes resting on his cheeks, pouting pink lips slightly parted.

“So pretty,” Billy runs a thumb along Steve’s cheekbone and his eyes burst open, blown even darker with huge pupils. “I bet you get that a lot.”  
“Not really,” Steve whispers. “Not in a way that makes it sound like a compliment.”  
“Well it is; a pretty boy just for me,” Billy whispers back, and Steve shudders, finally in the way Billy’s been hoping for this whole time.

Billy moves off the tub and guides Steve forward, testing the temperature of the water as he turns the shower head on. He can see Steve’s knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the enamel, but he holds still as Billy washes the cream out, and then he sits back on his heels as Billy carefully towel-dries his hair. He can’t resist, when he’s finished, standing in front of Steve, looking down at him in that perfect position, tilting his head up with a gentle nudge under his chin. His eyes are closed again, and Billy can see tears bubbling against his lashes, which he delicately wipes away with the slightest sweep of his thumb, bending to drop a single soft kiss on Steve’s tempting lips. 

Steve lets out a shocked whimper, and Billy presses his mouth for a moment, until he feels the tension drain, and Steve respond with a minute movement of his lips. Billy takes advantage, sweeping his tongue across Steve’s lower lip, which parts for him, allowing him to slide inside, Steve’s tongue dormant until Billy tickles along its edge and Steve seems to awaken, responding with unexpected but welcome passion, until Billy has dropped to his knees, resting his forehead against Steve’s, both of them breathless and panting.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you.”  
Steve blushes and tries to move his head away, but Billy doesn’t let him, bringing his hand to grip the back of Steve’s neck, so he can position him to kiss again, until Steve’s moaning into his mouth.  
“You do very bad things to me, Pretty Boy,” Billy growls. He’s wondering how to get Steve from the bathroom floor into his bed without spooking the boy, but Steve surprises him again, standing with Billy’s hand in his and dragging the larger man there himself.

“Seems like you might be wanting something from me, Pretty Boy,” Billy purrs, stroking a hand down Steve’s naked back as they stand chest-to-chest next to his bed.  
“Please,” Steve whispers, looking at the floor.  
“Please, what?”  
“Don’t make me…”  
“Hey, Baby, I’m not making you do anything. If you don’t want-,”  
“No. Don’t make me say it.”  
“Oh,” Billy feels a warmth build from his core. “You want me to take charge?”  
“Please.”  
“Oh, with pleasure, Pretty Boy. With all the pleasure in the world.”

Billy gently pushes Steve back until he’s laying on the bed, looking up at Billy with something that looks close to awe, his breaths coming heavy as his chest rises and falls in anticipation. Billy leans over him, his much larger body encompassing Steve’s delicate one, as he kisses him again, working the fastening on his dress pants, pulling them over his hips before looking down and gasping. Steve’s wearing silky underwear, palest blue. They look like boyshorts, and they look incredible against his pale skin.  
“You really are my Pretty Princess, aren’t you?”  
“Don’t- I’ll take them off if you don’t like them. I don’t have to-,”  
“Oh, no way. I think I’ll make you wear these every day. Do you wear them all the time?”  
“Uh, no. I only started wearing them a few weeks ago. I like the silk.”  
“So no one else has ever seen you in them?”  
“No.”  
“Good. They’re for me, now, Princess.”

Steve gets a dark look in his eyes, and opens his mouth but stops himself. Billy knows he wants to ask if that means Billy wants more, and he finds he does. He didn’t know that until he said those words, not for sure, but as soon as he had he realizes he wants all of this boy for himself. And he’ll have him, every which way, but one particular way right now.

Billy takes his time travelling down Steve’s body, sucking dark marks all over the pale flesh, nipping and scraping his teeth until Steve is panting and needy, begging for Billy to touch him. Billy strokes him through the silky panties, watching the way his tight stomach muscles twist as he moves his body desperately, looking for pressure when Billy is only offering the lightest touch, the evidence of his arousal darkening the silk.  
“Look at you, making a mess for me.” He sweeps his thumb across the covered tip and the noise Steve makes is fucking _perfect_ ; high and whining. “You need this, don’t you, Baby?”  
“Please, Billy, don’t tease.”  
“But I want to, Pretty Boy. Now I have you here, where I want you. I want to tease you until you’re sobbing with need. And I don’t think I’ll have to wait long, will I? Before you let your desperate, slutty self out.”  
“No,” Steve’s whimper is undermined by him spreading his long thighs and Billy fucking _growls_ at that, rubbing the tip of his finger over Steve’s clothed hole, using his nail to tickle.  
“Oh, you want that, do you? Such a dirty boy for me.”  
“Yes, Billy, for you.”  
“Yes,” Billy hisses, taking the tip of Steve’s cock between his lips, wetting the fabric, sticking it to him.

He reaches blindly for the lube in his nightstand drawer, flipping the lid while he simultaneously slides the silk panties down over Steve’s ass, leaving them high at the front while he keeps mouthing, lapping up the salty fluid that passes through. He coats Steve’s now-revealed hole until it’s dripping, before he even thinks about breaching it, though he finally does, just to the first knuckle, moving his mouth to bite at Steve’s sharp hip as he pushes forward further, until one finger is fully embedded, and he can revel in the noises falling from Steve’s perfectly plush lips.

He wants them now, so moves back up, taking Steve’s mouth, swallowing the pleas and whimpers as he pushes another finger inside so he can twist and scissor; getting his Pretty Boy ready for him. He thinks Steve is trying to beg some more, but he doesn’t give him space to, keeps swallowing them down instead. When he’s three thick fingers deep, teasing, brushing over Steve’s prostate and then moving away, and Steve’s tense and desperate under him, he pulls back. Fuck, he _wants_.  
“I wanna do so much to you, Pretty Boy. I want to taste every inch of you. Want you on your knees for me. Wanna watch you fall apart for me.”  
“Need it, Billy, please,” Steve’s voice is a husky whisper, his face flushed with arousal and shame.  
“No, Baby, no embarrassment. Want you horny and slutty and desperate. You beggin’ me… ‘s the best thing I ever heard.” Steve moans at that, and Billy reaches for a condom, moving fast because Steve lets out a sad little sob when he takes his fingers out, and it’s only a moment or two and then he’s pushing in, Steve gasping through it, his eyes wide and dark, his kiss-fattened lips parted.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you? So perfect for me. Feel so good wrapped around me. So tight, and hot.”  
Steve whines, lifting his hips to meet Billy’s thrusts, grasping tightly at his shoulders, long fingers digging in. Billy groans, burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. He’d been enjoying compliant, sweet Steve so much, he’d no idea how much grabby, forceful Steve would short-circuit his brain, and he slams in deep, pushing a high-pitched squeak from Steve.  
“Shit, Baby, did I hurt you?”  
“No, Billy, more, more, please.”

Fuck, he doesn’t need more prompting than that, and he slips out, easily lifting and twisting Steve’s lean frame, holding the back of his elegant neck, pinning him, and sliding back in, going hard, feeling the way Steve positively vibrates around him. He shifts his hips, keeping up the bruising pace, but seeking that extra reaction and when he finds it, evidenced by the long, drawn-out cry from Steve, he keeps at that point until Steve is almost sobbing.  
“Too much, Pretty Boy?”  
“Need something, Billy, please.”  
Billy knows, gets it, the overstimulation is intense, incredible, but frustrating, so he reaches around, finding Steve’s steel-like, leaking cock, testing with some gentle strokes, before tightening his grip, firming pulling Steve’s orgasm from him while he keeps the snap of his hips steady, until Steve goes utterly boneless, his hole just fluttering in response to the continued invasion as Billy chases his own release easily, as it’s been on the verge forever by now, and he swells with a hiss, before dropping carefully to Steve’s side, pulling him back to spoon him, hugging him hard and kissing at the back of his sweaty neck.  
“Too, too perfect, Pretty Boy.”

* * * * * 

Steve hasn’t left Billy’s house for five days. Steve rang in sick after the weekend, which he’s owed, he reasons, because he hasn’t had any sick time, or vacation days, since he started working there and if he can’t abuse his status of working for his father this one time, when will he ever get the chance? Billy didn’t call in sick, but he rearranged most appointments and only went out for a few of his most loyal clients, and Steve’s inordinately proud that Billy’s so good at what he does that the rest are falling over themselves to rearrange for ‘whenever is convenient for you, Billy’.

He’s been wearing Billy’s shirts, mainly, and not much of anything else, but he needs to go home now, because he’s decided he really does need to go into work tomorrow.  
“Kinda wish I could just keep you barefoot and naked in my house forever,” Billy purrs into the back of Steve’s neck, and he shudders pleasurably.  
“Bet you’d like it if I picked up a few more pairs of panties from my place though?” he teases, grinding his naked ass back against Billy’s trackpant covered cock.  
“Fuck, such a filthy boy. Yes, please.” Billy stops grinding and Steve whimpers at the loss.  
“What?”  
“Just- why don’t you get your work stuff, and some of those panties, and stay over again tonight?”

Steve gets Billy’s uncertainty. They haven’t put a name on what they’re doing, but it’s definitely something more intense than mind-blowing sex (though it’s that, too, of course). They’ve been doing a lot of other stuff; talking, and watching movies, and cooking. But going home and then coming back…that’s a confirmation of sorts.

“You want me to?” Steve chickens out of being the one to label it, though.  
“I do,” Billy looks determined. “I know it’s early for…anything. But if I had my way you’d be here all the time. I know it’s too soon for anything like that. We should probably go on a date first. But I don’t want you to sleep away from me tonight.”  
“Okay.” And maybe he’ll bring a spare toothbrush too. It seems like the right thing to do.


End file.
